Jim Smith, as he walked back to the institute, nursing his wrath, felt very much like a dethroned king. He was very anxious to be revenged upon Hector, but the lesson he had received made him cautious. He must get him into trouble by some means. Should he complain to his uncle? It would involve the necessity of admitting his defeat, unless he could gloss over the story in some way.

This he decided to do.

On reaching the school he sought his dormitory, and carefully wiped away the blood from his face. Then he combed his hair and arranged his dress, and sought his uncle.

Mr. Smith was at his desk, looking over his accounts, and estimating the profits of the half year, when his nephew made his appearance.

“Uncle Socrates, I’d like to speak to you.”

“Very well, James. Proceed.”

“I want to complain of the new boy who came this morning.”

Socrates Smith looked up in genuine surprise. As a general thing, his nephew brought few complaints, for he took the responsibility of punishing boys he did not like himself.

“What! Roscoe?” inquired the principal.

“Yes.”

“Is he in any mischief?”

“Mischief? I should say so! Why, he’s a regular young Turk.”

“A young Turk? I don’t think I understand you, James.”

“I mean, he’s a young ruffian.”

“What has he been doing?” asked Socrates, in surprise.

“He pitched into me a short time ago,” said Jim, in some embarrassment.

“Pitched into you! You don’t mean to say that he attacked you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But he’s a considerably smaller boy than you, James. I am surprised that he should have dared to attack you.”

“Yes, he is small, but he’s a regular fighter.”

“I suppose you gave him a lesson?”

“Ye-es, of course.”

“So that he won’t be very likely to renew the attack.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. He’s tough and wiry, and understands boxing. I found it hard work to thrash him.”

“But you did thrash him?” said Socrates, puzzled.

“Yes.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“I thought you might punish him for being quarrelsome.”

“It may be a good idea. I remember now that his uncle warned me that he would need restraining.”

“Just so, uncle,” said Jim, eagerly. “His uncle was right.”

“Well, I will give him a lecture. He will find that he cannot behave as he pleases at Smith Institute,” said Socrates, pompously. “He will find that I do not tolerate any defiance of authority. I will speak of it after vespers.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

“He’ll get a raking down!” thought Jim, with gratification. “I’ll make it hot for him here, he may be sure of that.”

Half an hour after supper was read a brief evening service called vespers, and then the boys’ study hours commenced. During this time they were expected to be preparing their lessons for the next day.

The service was generally read by Socrates Smith, A. M., in person. It was one of the few official duties he performed, and he was generally very imposing in his manner on this occasion.

When the service had been read on that particular evening, the principal did not immediately give the signal for study to be commenced. Instead, he cleared his throat, saying:

“Boys, I have a few words to say to you. This morning a new boy made his appearance among us. His uncle, or perhaps I should say his guardian, attracted by the well-deserved fame of Smith Institute, came hither to enter him among my pupils. I received him cordially, and promised that he should share with you the rich, the inestimable educational advantages which our humble seminary affords. I hoped he would be an acquisition, that by his obedience and his fidelity to duty he would shed luster on our school.”

Here Socrates blew his nose sonorously, and resumed:

“But what has happened? On the very first day of his residence here he brutally assaults one of our numbers, my nephew, and displays the savage instincts of a barbarian. His uncle did well to warn me that he would need salutary restraint.”

Hector, who had been amused by the solemn and impressive remarks of Socrates, looked up in surprise. Had Allan Roscoe really traduced him in this manner, after robbing him of his inheritance, as Hector felt convinced that he had done?

“Hector Roscoe!” said Socrates, severely; “stand up, and let me hear what you have to say for yourself.”

Hector rose calmly, and faced the principal, by no means awe-stricken at the grave arraignment to which he had listened.

“I say this, Mr. Smith,” he answered, “that I did not attack your nephew till he had first attacked me. This he did without the slightest provocation, and I defended myself, as I had a right to do.”

“It’s a lie!” muttered Jim, in a tone audible to his uncle.

“My nephew’s report is of a different character. I am disposed to believe him.”

“I regret to say, sir, that he has made a false statement. I will give you an account of what actually occurred. On my return from a walk he sent a boy summoning me to his presence. As he was not a teacher, and had no more authority over me than I over him, I declined to obey, but sent word that if he wished to see me he could come where I was. I then walked down to the brook in Carver’s field. He followed me, as soon as he had received my message, and, charging me with impertinence, challenged me to a fight. Well, we had a fight; but he attacked me first.”

“I don’t know whether this account is correct or not,” said Socrates, a little nonplused by this new version of the affair.

“I am ready to accept the decision of any one of the boys,” said Hector.

“Bates,” said Socrates, who knew that this boy was an adherent of his nephew, “is this account of Roscoe’s true?”

Bates hesitated a moment. He was still afraid of Jim, but when he thought of Hector’s prowess, he concluded that he had better tell the truth.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

Jim Smith darted an angry and menacing glance at his failing adherent.

“Ahem!” said Socrates, looking puzzled: “it is not quite so bad as I supposed. I regret, however, that you have exhibited such a quarrelsome disposition.”

“I don’t think I am quarrelsome, sir,” said Hector.

“Silence, sir! I have Mr. Allan Roscoe’s word for it.”

“It appears to me,” said Hector, undauntedly, “that your nephew is at least as quarrelsome as I am. He forced the fight upon me.”

“Probably you will not be in a hurry to attack him again,” said Socrates, under the impression that Hector had got the worst of it.

Some of the boys smiled, but Socrates did not see it.

“As you have probably received a lesson, I will not punish you as I had anticipated. I will sentence you, however, to commit to memory the first fifty lines of Virgil’s ‘AEneid.’ Mr. Crabb, will you see that Roscoe performs his penance?”

“Yes, sir,” said Crabb, faintly.

“Is your nephew also to perform a penance?” asked Hector, undaunted.

“Silence, sir! What right have you to question me on this subject?”

“Because, sir, he is more to blame than I.”

“I don’t know that. I am not at all sure that your story is correct.”

Mr. Crabb, meek as he was, was indignant at this flagrant partiality.

“Mr. Smith,” he said, “I happen to know that Roscoe’s story is strictly correct, and that your nephew made an unprovoked attack upon him.”

Hector looked grateful, and Jim Smith furious.

“Mr. Crabb,” said Socrates, angrily, “I did not ask your opinion. So far as my nephew is concerned, I will deal with him privately. Boys, you may begin your studies.”

All the boys understood that Jim was to be let off, and they thought it a shame. But Mr. Crabb took care to make Hector’s penance as light as possible.

And thus passed the first day at Smith Institute.